the buoy opposite the Club, and back to the cove by Dillaway's. And we'll make it a case of wine. Is it a go?”
Archie, he laughed and said it was, and, all at once, the race was on.
Now, Phil had lied when he said we was “favoring” him with advice, 'cause we hadn't said a word; but that beat up to the point wa'n't half over afore Jonadab and me was dying to tell him a few things. He handled that boat like a lobster. Archie gained on every tack and come about for the run a full minute afore us.
And on that run afore the wind 'twas worse than ever. The way Phil see-sawed that piece of pie back and forth over the river was a sin and shame. He could have slacked off his mainsail and headed dead for the buoy, but no, he jiggled around like an old woman crossing the road ahead of a funeral.
Cap'n Jonadab was on edge. Racing was where he lived, as you might say, and he fidgeted like he was setting on a pin-cushion. By and by he snaps out:
“Keep her off! Keep her off afore the wind! Can't you see where you're going?”
Phil looked at him as if he was a graven image, and all the answer he made was; “Be calm, Barnacles, be calm!”
But pretty soon I couldn't stand it no longer, and I busts out with: “Keep her off, Mr. What's-your name! For the Lord's sake, keep her off! He'll beat the life out of you!”
And all the good that done was for me to get a stare that was colder than the wind, if such a thing's possible.
But Jonadab got fidgetyer every minute, and when we come out into the broadest part of the river, within a little ways of the buoy, he couldn't stand it no longer.
“You're spilling half the wind!” he yells. “Pint' her for the buoy or else you'll be licked to death! Jibe her so's she gits it full. Jibe her, you lubber! Don't you know how? Here! let me show you!”
And the next thing I knew he fetched a hop like a frog, shoved Phil out of the way, grabbed the tiller, and jammed it over.
She jibed—oh, yes, she jibed! If anybody says she didn't you send 'em to me. I give you my word that that flat-iron jibed twice—once for practice, I jedge, and then for business. She commenced by twisting and squirming like an eel. I jest had sense enough to clamp my mittens onto the little brass rail by the stern and hold on; then she jibed the second time. She stood up on two legs, the boom come over with a slat that pretty nigh took the mast with it, and the whole shebang whirled around as if it had forgot something. I have a foggy kind of remembrance of locking my mitten clamps fast onto that rail while the rest of me streamed out in the air like a burgee. Next thing I knew we was scooting back towards Dillaway's, with the sail catching every ounce that was blowing. Jonadab was braced across the tiller, and there, behind us, was the Honorable Philip Catesby-Stuart, flat on his back, with his blanket legs looking like a pair of compasses, and skimming in whirligigs over the slick ice towards Albany. HE hadn't had nothing to hold onto, you understand. Well, if I hadn't seen it, I wouldn't have b'lieved that a human being could spin so long or travel so fast on his back. His legs made a kind of smoky circle in the air over him, and he'd got such a start I thought he'd NEVER STOP a-going. He come to a place where some snow had melted in the sun and there was a pond, as you might say, on the ice, and he went through that, heaving spray like one of them circular lawn sprinklers the summer folks have. He'd have been as pretty as a fountain, if we'd had time to stop and look at him.
“For the land sakes, heave to!” I yelled, soon's I could get my breath. “You've spilled the skipper!”
“Skipper be durned!” howls Jonadab, squeezing the tiller and keeping on the course; “We'll come back for him by and by. It's our business to win this race.”
And, by ginger! we DID win it. The way Jonadab coaxed that cocked hat on runners over the ice was pretty—yes, sir, pretty! He nipped her close enough to the wind'ard, and he took advantage of every single chance. He always COULD sail; I'll say that for him. We walked up on Archie like he'd set down to rest, and passed him afore he was within a half mile of home. We run up abreast of Dillaway's, putting on all the fancy frills of a liner coming into port, and there was Ebenezer and a whole crowd of wedding company down by the landing.
“Gosh!” says Jonadab, tugging at his whiskers: “'Twas Cape Cod against New York that time, and you can't beat the Cape when it comes to getting over water, not even if the water's froze. Hey, Barzilla?”
Ebenezer came hopping over the ice towards us. He looked some surprised.
“Where's Phil?” he says.
Now, I'd clean forgot Phil and I guess Jonadab had, by the way he colored up.
“Phil?” says he. “Phil? Oh, yes! We left him up the road a piece. Maybe we'd better go after him now.”
But old Dillaway had something to say.
“Cap'n,” he says, looking round to make sure none of the comp'ny was follering him out to the ice-boat. “I've wanted to speak to you afore, but I haven't had the chance. You mustn't b'lieve too much of what Mr. Catesby-Stuart says, nor you mustn't always do just what he suggests. You see,” he says, “he's a dreadful practical joker.”
“Yes,” says Jonadab, beginning to look sick. I didn't say nothing, but I guess I looked the same way.
“Yes,” said Ebenezer, kind of uneasy like; “Now, in that matter of Mrs. Granby. I s'pose Phil put you up to asking her about her son's laundry. Yes? Well, I thought so. You see, the fact is, her boy is a broker down in Wall Street, and he's been caught making some of what they call 'wash sales' of stock. It's against the rules of the Exchange to do that, and the papers have been full of the row. You can see,” says Dillaway, “how the laundry question kind of stirred the old lady up. But, Lord! it must have been funny,” and he commenced to grin.
I looked at Jonadab, and he looked at me. I thought of Marm Granby, and her being “dying to know us,” and I thought of the lies about the “hod of change” and all the rest, and I give you my word I didn't grin, not enough to show my wisdom teeth, anyhow. A crack in the ice an inch wide would have held me, with room to spare; I know that.
“Hum!” grunts Jonadab, kind of dry and bitter, as if he'd been taking wormwood tea; “I see. He's been having a good time making durn fools out of us.”
“Well,” says Ebenezer, “not exactly that, p'raps, but—”
And then along comes Archie and his crowd in the other ice-boat.
“Hi!” he yells. “Who sailed that boat of yours? He knew his business all right. I never saw anything better. Phil—why, where IS Phil?”
I answered him. “Phil got out when we jibed,” I says.
“Was THAT Phil?” he hollers, and then the three of 'em just roared.
“Oh, by Jove, you know!” says Archie, “that's the funniest thing I ever saw. And on Phil, too! He'll never hear the last of it at the club—hey, boys?” And then they just bellered and laughed again.
When they'd gone, Jonadab turned to Ebenezer and he says: “That taking us out on this boat was another case of having fun with the countrymen. Hey?”
“I guess so,” says Dillaway. “I b'lieve he told one of the guests that he was going to put Cape Cod on ice this morning.”
I
